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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25376212">Old tricks, new tricks</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessikast/pseuds/jessikast'>jessikast</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternative Epilogue, Although no one's talked about what kind of salary this whole immortal warrior gig has, Booker gets better, Gen, Minor Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Nile considering her future, OH MY GOD THEY ALL NEED THERAPY, Team, Team being supportive</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:33:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,342</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25376212</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessikast/pseuds/jessikast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nile considers options for her future, and what the others can teach her.</p>
<p>In return, the team learn from Nile.</p>
<p>(AKA Nile explains some modern mental health options, because THEY. NEED. THERAPY. So, so much.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>593</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Old tricks, new tricks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>As the summary says - this fic came out of two ideas for me:<br/>1. Nile's Rodin moment seems to indicate she likes art history, and I love the idea of her getting to study it and doing well because she has more than just textbooks to rely on.<br/>2. Booker deserves better than being left to make the same mistakes again.</p>
<p>Un-beta'd. Also, I know nothing about the American military or therapy/support groups - except for the fact that these people clearly need them. Especially Booker!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nile collapsed with a groan into the sofa, sinking with relief into the cool leather and covering her sweaty face with a towel. Just because workouts and sparring weren’t as physically painful any more didn’t mean it wasn’t exhausting. Bruises, abrasions, strains, sprains, and the multitude of small tears in muscle fibres that were a necessary part of growing strength all healed almost as fast as they were doled out; lactic acid was generated and absorbed in moments. That didn’t mean that Nile didn’t feel hot and sweaty and exhausted – Andy was happily teaching Nile everything she could learn, with a slightly frantic edge that came with the unfamiliar realisation that there was a limit on how long she had to impart as much as she could, and learning was just mentally <em>draining</em>.</p>
<p>She heard footsteps entering the living room where she was collapsed and a quiet snort of amusement as they passed her going into the kitchen. There was a muted clink as the fridge was opened and closed, and a moment later a cold water bottle was pressed into her hand. Nile moaned feebly in thanks and put in the effort to pull herself up to sit, dragging the towel off her face to hang around the back of her neck. Nicky was smiling at her, and plonked himself down into the space she’d left on the other side of the sofa.</p>
<p>“Having fun?” he asked.</p>
<p>Nile huffed a quiet laugh, and took a grateful swig of the cold water. “Actually, yes. It’s…she’s amazing, I’m learning <em>so</em> much. It’s just a lot, y’know?”</p>
<p>He nodded. “I <em>do</em> know. I remember when we – Yusuf and I – first met Andy and Quynh. I thought we were both good at what we did – even though fighting wasn’t the first calling for either of us, we were both warriors in our souls, we found joy in a good fight. But learning from Andy was…intoxicating. We would spend days drilling and sparring and fall exhausted into sleep onto to do it all again the next day. It was so satisfying, learning new skills, seeing ourselves become better day by day.”</p>
<p>Nile groaned. She knew what he was talking about – there was that moment when she <em>got</em> what Andy was teaching her, when their sparring became a dance, when Andy’s face lit up with genuine delight and pride. It was addictive. “How did you survive it?”</p>
<p>Nicky snorted. “We didn’t. Quynh lost patience and staged an intervention – after several months, she just rode her horse through the middle of our drill, took off mine and Joe’s heads, and while we were reviving she talked Andy into taking things easier. The fighting is important, yes, but Quynh was always good at reminding Andy of the balance we all need. What is the point of being a warrior if you never lift your head to understand what you are fighting for?”</p>
<p>Nile thought for a moment. “You mean, get a hobby?”</p>
<p>“Travel, perhaps. Study. Learn to paint, cooking classes, learn another language – you know Joe is very eager to help you become more fluent in Arabic the moment you ask him.” He paused. “Booker liked his books, but also developed an over-fondness for alcohol. I’m not sure I can recommend taking up an addiction as a ‘hobby’. But other things, yes.”</p>
<p>Nile tipped her head back on the sofa and studied the ceiling. “It <em>would</em> be nice to get better at Arabic-“</p>
<p>“We’ll start tomorrow!” carolled Joe’s voice from the hallway.</p>
<p>“-but I’m not sure what else. There’s so much…”</p>
<p>“Well, what would you be doing if you were still…on your original life path?”</p>
<p>Nile shrugged. “Military. Not forever, not career like my dad was though. But I’d put in my time, then go to college, get a job, house, marriage, kids. I guess. The normal stuff.”</p>
<p>Joe had wandered in to join the conversation properly, settling on the floor at Nicky’s feet. “What would you study? At college?”</p>
<p>“Mom wanted my brother and I do to something practical. Business studies, probably. Something we could get steady jobs in.”</p>
<p>“Well, you’ve got a job for life now,” said Joe.</p>
<p>“Not that anyone’s talked to me about salary,” muttered Nile.</p>
<p>Joe ignored her. “What would you <em>want</em> to study? You can go to university if you want, we’ll set you up with an identity as a student. It’s easy enough to fit in missions around the semesters, or just take a few years off here and there.”</p>
<p>Nile was surprised at the eagerness she felt at the idea. College had always been a ‘someday’ thing, tempered with worry about student loans and the need to find a career. The means to an end. The idea of study for study’s sake was incredibly enticing. “I always liked history,” she said slowly. “Art history.”</p>
<p>Nicky clapped his hands. “Well, there you go!” he said. “Universita di Genova-“</p>
<p>“No, no, no,” said Joe. “I haven’t taught her Arabic yet; she hasn’t even started on Italian.”</p>
<p>Andy’s voice came from the doorway, low and amused. “How about you just take her to some galleries and public seminars to start with, huh, guys?”</p>
<p>Nile looked over at her. “You think it’s a good idea, then?”</p>
<p>“Sure. I mean, universities are kind of a new-fangled idea-“</p>
<p>Nicky looked wounded. “Bologna was founded in the eleventh century!”</p>
<p>“-like I said, <em>new-fangled</em>, but yeah. If that’s something you’re interested in, we can make it happen. Good idea for a subject to study, too – I would hope that you would take shameless advantage of, hmm, a primary source material right at your fingertips.”</p>
<p>Nile smiled slowly. “Thanks. That would be…yeah. I’ll think about it.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>It was at the end of a mission briefing with the team and Copley when Nile piped up with something she’d been wondering for a while.</p>
<p>“You guys have resources, right?”</p>
<p>“Sure, we’ve got the hang of making some investments,” said Joe. “Some art, few properties here and there. Why, did you need something? Andy gave you spending money, right?”</p>
<p>Nile thought about the pouch stuffed with notes and heavy coins in six different denominations representing as much as she’d earn in a year which Andy had casually dropped in front of her last week, and – more usefully – the anonymous Visa debit card Copley had set up for her.</p>
<p>“No, I mean – you must have doctors you trust? Or maybe it’s an intelligence community thing?” she asked, looking hopefully at Copley.</p>
<p>Andy still looked puzzled. “I have…a pharmacist?”</p>
<p>Joe shrugged. “We don’t need doctors. We get injured, we heal. If we get sick, we get better.”</p>
<p>“Well, sure, physically. I was thinking more like…who do you go to for mental health? The CIA must have had, like, therapists with top clearance, right? That’s how they do it in the movies.”</p>
<p>Everyone still looked blank. Even Copley, which was alarming.</p>
<p>“We talk to each other,” said Nicky cautiously. “Is that what you mean? You must know you can talk to us about anything. We are all here for you.” They all nodded, looking pleased with themselves.</p>
<p>Nile looked around at them all in mounting horror. “Okay, I can kind of understand <em>you</em> lot not being up-to-date. But Copley, you <em>must</em> have seen someone? After your wife….?”</p>
<p>Copley shifted in his seat. “I…I had my work. It kept me busy.”</p>
<p>“Your work. The work which meant first <em>believing</em> in the existence of immortal warriors – which okay, I know we exist but that’s not a logical leap most people would have taken - then tracking down and kidnapping them to hand them over to a psychopathic CEO? <em>That </em>work?”</p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>Nile put her head down on the table.</p>
<p>“Nile, are you okay?” said Copley, concerned. “Your military personnel file didn’t include any mental health issues you were being treated for, but of course we can access-“</p>
<p>“No, nothing like that,” said Nile into the wood of the table top. “But…everyone has a therapist these days, right? It’s good to have someone to talk to, keep things in perspective, develop coping strategies. Preventative, like going to the doctor for a check-up.”</p>
<p>Copley sighed, even though the others still looked faintly baffled. “Okay, point taken. But…even if I still had access to the CIA’s human resources, what you <em>are</em> is so far above even the highest security clearance. It’s too much to risk.”</p>
<p>Nile sat back up. “So, what about Booker, then?”</p>
<p>“What <em>about</em> Booker?” growled Joe.</p>
<p>“Well…what did you set up for him?”</p>
<p>“I don’t…” started Andy.</p>
<p>Nile looked at them all, dismay rising. “I thought for sure you must have got something organised for him. How else did you expect him to rehabilitate?”</p>
<p>“We leave him alone for a hundred years, he thinks about what he did, he feels really sorry?”</p>
<p>Nile ground her teeth. This was…this was just a culture clash. When the culture was hundreds or thousands of years, rather than distance. “Guys, think it through. You can’t just…send him to his room! Booker was depressed – okay, I’m not sure if he would be clinically diagnosed, but still – because he had <em>lost all the people he loved</em> and to hear him tell it, they all hated him by the time they died. Then, due to his own, poorly-thought out actions, he has <em>once again</em> lost all the people left he loved and you guys do kind of hate him for what he did-“</p>
<p>“Forgiveness is a <em>process,</em>” muttered Nicky, reaching over to hold Joe’s hand.</p>
<p>“-and look, I’m not saying anyone’s feelings aren’t valid, but what makes you think that things will turn out any better for him this time around?”</p>
<p>Joe and Nicky were both looking like the idea made sense, but they didn’t like it. Andy just looked stricken. “I never thought…but I still don’t see how he could talk to anyone without exposing everything.”</p>
<p>Copley rubbed his face, looking tired. “Nile has a point. Let me make some calls. There are options – therapists who work with soldiers and people from classified backgrounds, who are trained to talk around the classified parts and still offer treatment. Support groups for people in similar situations, that kind of thing.”</p>
<p>Nile was nodding. “Like grief support groups, you mean? <em>Yes</em>. For god’s sake, make the phone calls!”</p>
<p>Joe rolled his eyes. “I don’t <em>really</em> think there are similar situations.”</p>
<p>Andy took a deep breath. “Grief is grief. If you think it could help him, then yes, please. Do so.” She looked around at the others. “Nile is right. We can’t place Booker in the same situation and expect a different result.”</p>
<p>Joe abruptly pushed back from the table and left the room. Nicky took just a moment to murmur his apologies and hurried after him. Andy looked after them sadly.</p>
<p>“I’ll…I’ll go make those calls,” said Copley, excusing himself quickly.</p>
<p>That left Nile with Andy. She reached out and grasped Andy’s hand. “Thank you. I mean, I really can’t believe that it’s something that never occurred to you before-“</p>
<p>Andy glared at her. “Hey, there’s no guarantee it’s no more of a fad than humours or leeches.”</p>
<p>“They still uses leeches,” said Nile, distracted. “They made a comeback. For keeping blood flowing through small blood vessels in delicate surgeries.”</p>
<p>“Huh. That’s both…gross and weirdly reassuring. Everything old is new again.”</p>
<p>Nile gave her hand one more squeeze and started gathering coffee cups and clearing the table. Andy cleared her throat. “Look, I’m…I’m not good with all this feelings stuff.”</p>
<p>“You’re not <em>that </em>bad!”</p>
<p>“I’d rather punch a problem. But…thank you. I know this isn’t what you ever wanted for yourself, but I’m glad you’re with us. It’s…a refreshing perspective.”</p>
<p>Nile blushed a little, feeling pleased. The idea that she was able to contribute something new to the team, something <em>useful</em>. Yeah, that was nice. And dear god, they all needed therapy <em>so badly</em>.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Epilogue, six months later:</em>
</p>
<p>Booker jogged lightly up the steps to his apartment, in a building comfortingly older than he was. He fumbled with the keys to his door – not because he was drunk, but because he was juggling three hardback books: a 19<sup>th</sup> century literature classic he never got around to the first time around, a modern thriller, and a book about resilience one of the guys at group recommended. He was just planning to drop them off and head out again – he was running late, support group was on this evening, and he’d spent longer than he planned happily lost in the stacks of the second-hand book store.</p>
<p>The door swung open, unlocked, as he moved to use the key. He dropped the books and pulled out the gun he couldn’t help keeping at his belt. (“As coping mechanisms go, it’s not the safest, Seb, but if it’s what you need to feel safe while you process your losses, then we can work with that, okay?”) He knew the woman in red even before she turned around. “Hello, Booker,” she said. “I’m glad to finally meet you.”</p>
<p>Booker looked at her, and the fractured look in her eyes reminded him of the soldiers in group, the ones who had been lost and held before coming back to families and a country that didn’t understand.</p>
<p>“Quynh,” he said, evenly. “I’m glad you’re here. Have you talked to anyone yet?”</p>
<p>She frowned, clearly thrown off stride when he didn’t react the way she expected him to. “Talk to…?”</p>
<p>Booker tucked his gun back into his pants, slowly, telegraphing every move. “Do you have time-?”</p>
<p>“I have nothing <em>but</em> time!” Quynh spat.</p>
<p>“Good, then perhaps you’d like to come out with me this evening? I’m meeting with some friends – they’re very good at listening, if you want to share anything.” She just looked at him, both baffled and angry. He shrugged. “It’s helped me a lot.” He waited, quietly, for her to decide. Slowly, she inclined her head. Just a little, but it was a start.</p>
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